


A thorn in your heart

by Unseen_Academical



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Don't try it, Jim is on fire, LITERALLY, Nymphs & Dryads, Prompt Fic, Sherlocks needs to take things less literally, You can’t get rid of invasive species
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26258188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unseen_Academical/pseuds/Unseen_Academical
Summary: Sherlock goes back to his childhood home, accompanied by Molly and John. The woods across seem to hold much more secrets than Sherlock is ready to share.
Relationships: Molly Hooper/Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes/Jim Moriarty
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. Into the woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpeculativeCorvid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpeculativeCorvid/gifts), [EmeraldUrAFreak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldUrAFreak/gifts).



> This is an AU of the BBC show. Everything is pretty much the same except Jim never happened. Or… has he?

_Nymphs are generally regarded as personifications of nature and are typically tied to a specific place or landform […]. They are not necessarily immortal but are thought to live much longer than humans before they die._

_Musing of a lone walker._

**1**

As much as he played it down, Molly knew this was an awful pass for Sherlock. She was happy to have been able to take a leave from the hospital to accompany him. Not that he had asked, but then she had not left him much of a choice. The death of a parent was not something that ought to be faced alone, and between John and herself they would take care of Sherlock. Mycroft… he mourned in his own way, taking care of everything from a distance.

Summer was slowly dying, and a chill was embracing the evenings again. She tugged her thin pullover closer and walked the lawn up to Sherlock. He was standing a little way from the house, gazing at the woodland’s treeline that seemed to eat up the lawn in the distance. Smoke curled about his face and eyes, that had the faraway look of reminiscing.

‘Hey.’ She called to get his attention once she was close enough.

He gave her a half smile, and she was somewhat relieved to know she wasn’t being a bother. She suspected he was grateful for her small talk. She chased the ghosts away. 

‘It’s beautiful.’ She commented, pointing the expense of wood ahead. ‘It must have been quite the tale growing up here.’ She paused, observing a magpie flying from branch to branch and scaring off smaller birds. ‘I’ve always loved the forest, but I grew up in a flat in the city.’

‘On day I tackled Mycroft in the mud. He was painted from head to toe.’ He smiled around his cigarette. ‘His face was perfect.’

She gave a chuckle.

‘What about a walk in the woods tomorrow?’ She asked. They did look beautiful and somewhat eery in the growing darkness. 

Sherlock face fell a little and something passed over his eyes.

‘No, that’s a bad idea Molly. I’m sorry.’ He answered.

He patted her on the shoulder and made his way back to the house, leaving her standing on the lawn.

**2**

‘Is that a track? I suppose it must be.’

She carefully considered the little strip of dirt worming its way between the overgrown bushes and tree trunks. Yup, definitely an old track. She carefully walked around the vegetation, working to not damage anything and not get damaged in return. Some of these bushes were very thorny.

‘Is that why Sherlock did not want to come around? It’s not that bad.’ She huffed.

Sherlock and John had gone into town to solve a couple things and she’d opted to stay behind. Even nowadays she didn’t get as much fresh air as she wanted. London was not exactly the best place to do so and the hospital was so busy she hardly ever had the time to get a proper vacation.

The woods were quite beautiful and enjoyable once you’d gotten past the fact your shirt would probably be ruined by the time you got out. Light filtered through the overhanging foliage in tender hues of green. There were a lot more birds and little insects than she would have expected, and the place had a timeless feeling to it.

Like it’d been left untouched and unchanged for years.

There was a rustle to her right and she through the vanishing tail of a fawn caught her eye. The faded track was going in this precise direction, and she proceeded quietly, her heart fluttering at the idea of perhaps getting to see the fluffy and adorable little creature properly. She advanced for quite some time, letting the forest wash over her and cursing as quietly as possible when encountering especially vicious thorns or inquiring insects. At last she heard the rustle again, closer and insistent. Panicked even.

The little fawn was there, caught and trapped in the biggest and most vicious looking thorn bush Molly had ever seen. The animal had gotten entangled and was trying to jump out, only succeeding in driving the thorns deeper in its skin. It was trembling of all its little limbs and obviously exhausted.

‘Oh, look at you. Don’t worry I got you.’ She cooed.

She moved and proceeded slowly to get the animal free. She regretted not bringing a knife or anything as she had to work with har bare hand. And somehow, she had not noticed the canopy getting denser as she proceeded into the woods, but here a lot less light filtered down. Making the task harder. In the end, her hands hurt and were covered in blood, and her shirt would definitely go down the bin, but the little animal sprang free and scuttled in the undergrowth.

She huffed but was very pleased to have been there at the right place in the right moment.

But right now, it was growing colder, and she was tired of all that excitement. And she wanted a bath. She looked around her and frowned. The track had been narrow, but very obvious in the vegetation or she would not have risked going forward. And yet, now, she couldn’t make it out.

She rounded the brambles and noticed the earth around and under seemed to have been burnt down at some point. The flames must even have started to eat up the nearby trees, since some stood shared like terrible black needles pointing to the sky. She rounded it a couple more times, getting very acutely aware of every details of the unfriendly place.

And still no path.

She started panicking, pondering the possibility to pick a direction at random. If she started from where she had worked the fawn off the bush the chances were… In her panicking she slipped against a blackened stone and fell headfirst into the bed of thorn. It bit mercilessly into her flesh and out of exhaustion she stayed very still and cried.

After a few, very long seconds, there was a shuffle besides her, and a branch was removed from her face.

‘Who are you?’ A voice asked softly. Curious.

It was a man’s voice. She gave a relieved sob, happy to know someone had found her and would help her out. She opened her eyes. And gasped in surprise.

He looked like a man, and yet he didn’t. He eyes were two black beads staring at her. Its skin was very pale, but something like a very dark bark, or coal covered part of it and of its face. There were leaves growing off him and _brambles._

‘Oh god!’ She gasped, recoiling out of instinct only to feel the thorns digging deeper into her skin.

‘Hush now,’ the creature whispered, ‘don’t be afraid.’

He helped her up gently, looking her up and down in a ravenous and obvious curiosity all the while. By the time she was up his appearance had shifted, to one somewhat closer to a human’s and thanks lord he was clothed. Only remained the paleness of his skin, his eyes and the charcoal eating up his face and side. Molly was speechless.

‘It’s not very polite not to answer questions.’ He stated with a sharp smile. 

Her brain fumbled and the only answer she could come up with was:

‘Who told you that?’

His smile turned broader, and slightly secretive.

‘A boy. He used to come here. He doesn’t anymore.’ He gave her an assertive look and added. ‘He used to call me Jim. Apparently, he found my name ridiculous.’

‘Molly.’ She answered. ‘Molly Hooper.’


	2. A gift of blackberries

**3**

 _Jim_ asked her a lot of questions, that she answered as best as she could. Yes, she came from outside the forest. No, she was not living around, she was just here for a few days. She was staying in the house that looked onto the woods, she was accompanying a friend of hers. His name was Sherlock Holmes.

He had been curious about Sherlock, but he was curious about everything she told him.

She had to figure out the answer to most of her question herself since they tended to be confusing to Jim. One question of hers sprouted ten of his, and she was not making much progress. Apparently, he could not move about too much. The forest, and even so, not all of it. They’d agree he was not human since she was, and he obviously wasn’t. He could shift his appearance, or even retreat to his roots completely, as he called it. To Molly it looked like he just vanished into thin air, but he would appear again with a laugh at her bewildered face.

He did not know of any other like him.

There were very little people coming his way.

Once she’d overcome her shock, something she managed relatively fast in retrospect, they spend a fairly pleasant afternoon. The forest seemed more welcoming with Jim chatting up to her, and she could not help but be charmed by his rather awkward but endearing manners. They picked blackberries from the bush together and he weaved a kind of basket out of the brambles so she could keep them. As a gift.

He looked lonely, she thought.

She had felt terrible when the light had started receding and she’d asked him to help her out of the forest. A shadow had passed upon his face and for a second, she’d thought he was going to refuse. But the moment passed as soon as it came, leaving only a little disheartened look on his face.

Probably a trick of the light.

With his help she found the track again, and it was a fairly easy walk back to the house. Soon, Sherlock’s place was in view.

‘I cannot go any further.’ He’d whispered a little way from the treeline. ‘Molly please, would you give me a last gift?’ He asked softly.

‘Oh, yes what is…’ She asked, turning to him.

He caught her chin and carefully kissed her, in a soft touch of his lips against hers. He tasted of blackberry, and something metallic. Then he retreated, letting the dark of his eyes linger in hers a little, before the shy and coy smile was back.

‘Goodbye, Molly Hooper.’ He whispered.

And he moved back to the shadows of the undergrowth.

She could almost not make out Jim from the vegetation when she snapped out of her shock.

‘I’ll come back Jim! I’ll come back tomorrow!’ She swore, to the forest at large.

**4**

‘MOLLY!’

She jumped out of her skin, not having expected the hurricane that descended upon her in the manner of a very worried Sherlock Holmes.

‘Molly!’ He grasped both her shoulders, like he needed to ground himself and make sure she was well and proper in front of him. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Hu? Out? Walking?’ She answered. ‘I am fine Sherlock, what got you so worked up?’

She turned her head around and caught the eyes of John, who was looking a little bewildered at Sherlock’s reaction too.

‘Well,’ John intervened, ‘that’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. It’s not even dark yet Sherlock. I know she doesn’t know the place yet but …’

Sherlock’s grip on her arms verged on painful and she returned her attention to him to protest but… He had frozen, all colour draining from his face, at the sight of the blackberries Molly had brought picked in the woods.

After what seemed like an eternity, he managed to get his voice back.

‘You went to the forest,’ he sounded like he was half gagged, ‘I told you not to go but you went anyway.’

‘You didn’t …’ She protested but cut her.

‘I’m sorry. It’s not your fault, it’s mine. The important thing is, you’re all right.’ He released his grip and patted her. ‘I am grateful you’re fine. I… I’ll sort it out.’ He assured her with a somewhat dazed look.

**5**

She didn’t have to time to ask Sherlock any more question, as he retreated promptly after that, leaving her and John dumbstruck.

‘Sherlock was getting worried,’ he had explained to her, ‘then his father mentioned a couple people had ventured in the wood and disappeared.’ He shook his head, confusion obvious. ‘That sent Sherlock in a kind of frenzied worries but thanks god that was only a few minutes before you’ve shown up. He looked like he was ready to mount a full-fledged search party.’

‘Good think I didn’t linger then.’ She huffed in response, troubled.

She had not exactly felt like sharing her afternoon with John. It… just did not felt quite right. So, she had just bidden him good night and retreated to her room.

But sleep had eluded her. She kept thinking about the man, the… spirit of the wood she’d met in the afternoon. Well he had felt pretty solid for a spirit. Perhaps he was a kind of nymph? But she thought these were only females…

He had looked heartbroken when she’d left.

Tired of turning around in her bed she got up. With any luck Sherlock would be going by his usual sleep schedule and therefore be still up at this ungodly hour. And she was sure _he_ knew something.

But Sherlock was not in his room, nor in any room of the house. With a strange forlorn feeling she got out on the lawn. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen, but out in the forest she could make out flickering lights. Fumes were licking the treetops.

Fire.

‘Sherlock!’ She yelled, and she ran to the woods. Her heart beating madly against her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! I know this is a little weird as Sherlock fanfic go, but I would be immensely grateful for reviews. It just feels so good to know people read and enjoy these works.


	3. Of ash and fire.

**6**

The path opened before her and she dived in, dread pooling and clutching her heart. She knew on instinct what had caught fire and the responsible, but one question kept coming round and round her head as the forest and shadows swallowed her.

Why, why, WHY?

The delicate and sorrowful look on Jim’s face. The fear and determination on Sherlock’s. Something was so _wrong_ here.

When she busted by Jim’s place the heat clawed and scorched her face immediately, before the fumes rose to chock her, irritating her throat and eyes. The towering thorn bush had been turned into a hellish furnace, thorns snapping and collapsing into glowing and explosive ambers, letting out rolling black clouds that coursed the forest’s floor like a curse.

And by this vision of nightmare, Jim, and Sherlock taken in a deadly lockdown.

Sherlock was pinned to the charred and cracked floor and Jim above him, and Jim was _burning._ Almost all his skin had turned to a smouldering amber and he was snarling like a wounded beast, his hands wound around Sherlock’s throat.

‘It was about you, and me Sherlock! How could you do this to me. How could you do this.’ And beneath the seething rage, his voice seemed to be crackling and… cracking.

Sherlock was fighting tooth and nails, the flames licking him up and burning his flesh, unable to break Jim’s hold on him. But Molly could see, Jim would not hold much longer. He was falling apart like a burnt log.

‘You wanted to keep me, to chain me. To burn me.’ Sherlock managed to spat in return. ‘The one thing you were fearing. But I am not you, and I was not yours! You’re a curse Jim, rotting and festering in this place. I will end you.’

A dark look passed on Jim, something more than the seething anger. Something deadlier. And she knew there was nothing left but to act.

None of them had noticed her. Jim descended on Sherlock, and she saw the death of his friend on its face. She did not ponder her decision. She grabbed a fallen branch and charged, hitting Jim in the chest with a powerful swing of her makeshift weapon. She had not expected the look of utter fear and perhaps even, guilt when he’d registered the coming blow and who was delivering it.

His whole torso exploded in burning shards, that filed away like fireworks and turned to ash before even touching the forest’s floor. The rest of the body smouldered to dust and got blown in a wave of the blackish smock rolling from the bramble toward the rest of the forest.

‘Jim!’ She exhaled, shocked and dazed.

‘We need to go!’ Sherlock shouted, grabbing her by the arm, and dragging her back out of the forest. Toward home. Toward safety.

**7**

Sherlock had been taken to the hospital, John overriding any of his protests.

To be honest, he looked terrible. And would probably keep lasting scares of the event.

The forest fire had been contained before any real damage was done. Sherlock claimed it was an accident, that happened as he lighted a cigarette. The ire of the general public turned toward the mayor who’d repeatedly neglected to take care of the woodland, leaving it in a state of abandon, and Sherlock got off the hook without a problem. Mycroft may have been involved.

Stupid as it sounded, and she did call herself stupid a great many time on her way, Molly couldn’t bring herself to leave without seeing ‘the place’ one last time.

She had promised Jim she’d come back after all.

The look in his eyes as she brought down the branch would haunt her to the hand of her days.

After the fire she found making her way to the heart of the wood way easier than before. The place was charred to the ground, burnt black. Nothing was left.

She thought back on how the forest floor and nearby trees had shown remains of having burnt down before. About Jim’s slightly charred skin. The scares of a fire.

Sherlock had played arsonist before then.

She sat down where the brambles had grown, an incomprehensible sadness clamping her chest. Sure, Sherlock must have done what he judged necessary, and Jim had not looked like a saint. But well, he _was_ a bramble. And Sherlock was a bit of moron when dealing with people, so she had a hard time even imagining him dealing with… none-people?

She let her eyes course around the place. The devastation had cleared the undergrowth, revealing some scarce scattered litter. Even here, in this strange and surrealistic place, humanity had soiled the privacy of nature.

It must have been terrible. Being here, and alone. Abandoned and unfamiliar of the reality eating the world outside of his little prison. Jim had looked lonely. Like he craved whatever silly company he could get. She guessed that in his place she would get desperate too.

A magpie landed in the middle of the newly formed clearing, popping her little bubble of recollection. The bird mused about the ashes, disturbing the burnt branches and piled rumble. An then it looked at Molly with a smug air (so far as bird _can_ look smug) and took flight.

It had had a lush blackberry in its beak.

Molly scrambled forward, falling on all four in the dust and started digging around in the ash. And found it. A little sapling. Very much alive and only slightly burned.

She smiled broadly, and a tear fell down in the ashes.

**Epilogue**

Molly cursed, fumbling with her keys in a precarious balancing act to keep her groceries aloft AND manage to open her flat’s door. He day had drained her to the bone and the London weather had taken on it to make things worse. She relished being back to the tranquillity of her little flat.

‘If I didn’t know better, I would swear you tried to kill me all this time. How do you manage to keep your potted plants alive is beyond me. I, they ought to have died ten times over.’

Molly yelped and let her groceries clatter to the floor.

Tobi hissed. Jim hissed back.

‘Jim!’ She just yelped. ‘Oh god… You’re…. back?’ She added somewhat lamely.

He looked at her. He looked good, if a little more charred than before. A wide smile broke his not quite human face.

‘Miss me?’ He asked, impish.

Sherlock was going to kill her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can completely imagine a sequel to this. Featuring : Sebastian, and the potted plant.   
> Or just Molly walking around, with her potted bramble. Meeting colleague and Jim being an arse and vanishing at the last moment like : ‘Hey Emma! This is my b- … plant?’  
> I know this was unconventional. Hope you liked it nonetheless. Drop a word they make me feel so happy. Love you all,   
> UA


End file.
